


And the band plays on

by batmanforeverlol



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: A bunch of ocs like you have no idea, But they’re mostly background so don’t worry, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmanforeverlol/pseuds/batmanforeverlol
Summary: Peter Benjamin Parker works as a musician at a Harlem jazz club, if only life were so simple.





	1. Ten cents a dance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so firstly this is my first time writing Spider-Man and I’m so excited! 
> 
> Secondly, I changed some things from canon. Aunt May also died in this universe. 
> 
> Thirdly, I might incorporate the inter dimensional travel but im not sure yet. 
> 
> And finally, a thank you for deciding to read this, you have no idea how much that means to me.

He had to work outside of being Spider-Man, being a private eye helped pay the bills but work wasn’t consistent and he’d been thrown out of his apartment more times than he could think of because of this. 

Finding work was hard, finding a well paying job with flexible hours was even harder. He’d been fired over and over again for not showing up to work, for being late, every time he had to work as Spider-Man it usually meant he was going to get fired soon. He’d worked odd jobs, regular jobs, you name it. The number of times he had to lie to get a job and then learn everything just to be fired two weeks later was astonishing, the only good thing was the number of odd skills he’d collected because of it. He eventually found a job that allowed for his irregular schedule and that had decent pay, which was something he couldn’t say about all his other jobs. 

Spider-Man was the private eye but Peter Parker was a musician down at a small and fairly unknown Harlem nightclub. He went because he could play the piano and they were looking for musicians, he had to audition like everybody else but in the end he miraculously got the job. He liked music, he liked to sing and dance, a love passed down from aunt May. She would always turn up the radio and sing like no one was listening and dance like no one was watching. 

The night was coming to an end, the place was almost empty and the bar man was cleaning what seemed to be the last glass of the evening. Peter was on the small stage next to the rest of the musicians, he played the last notes of a slow tune and the music traveled almost lazily through the air. The singer’s low voice was smooth and soothing to the ear and the last of the patrons seemed to be paying close attention to him, they weren’t extraordinary but they weren’t nothing. When the song finished there was the clapping from the almost nonexistent crowd and he found himself getting a drink after a long night of playing. The white suit he had to wear was starting to feel constricting. 

“Parker.” The barman gave him a polite nod. 

“Stevenson.” He sat down on an empty stool and rested his head on his arms. 

They said nothing as Stevenson took a clean glass from the rack and gave him his usual. “Long night?”

“Something like that, have another gig to worry about and rent’s coming up.” He took a sip from his egg cream.

“You shred it, wheat.” 

“How about you? Met some interesting folk tonight?”

“Yep! A pachuco asked for some giggle water, and after a few rounds he kept talking about how he was in a dizzy with a dame. Turns out she’s a canary and him a skin tickler for a club a couple blocks down.” 

“Poor fella, did he tell who’s moll it was?”

“I get good gossip but it’s not that good.”

“Bet you’d have more people sitting here if you did. The other club any good?”

“Not as good as this one.” 

“And what makes you say that?” 

“Well, you don’t play there for starters.” 

That gets him to chuckle. “I’m sure they’ve got better pianists than me, I’m just temporary.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that for the last three months yet I ain’t seeing a replacement coming anytime soon.” 

“There’s no need for the high praise but thank you Stevenson. That was nice of you to say.” 

“Just speaking the truth Parker.” He went back to cleaning and he finished his drink. He took out some change. “No need for that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Get the boys to play that song I like tomorrow and drink’s on me.” Peter chuckles again. 

“You could have just asked, there was no need to bleed me.” 

“That a yes?”

“That’s a yes. Abyssinia.” He stood up and went to the changing rooms backstage. He didn’t notice the small smile Stevenson gave him or the slightly darker shade of grey of his cheeks. 

Once inside the room he changed out of the horrible suit, and went back to his turtleneck and black pants. He cleaned his face of the makeup they made him wear, no one likes to see scars they told him, and he put his ‘work glasses’ down on the table. He put his broken, barely held together glasses back on and he stood up and put on his trench coat on his way out. The dark material was a familiar weight on his shoulders and it brought him a level of comfort unknown to everyone else. His walk back to his apartment was uneventful and he was glad. He was exhausted from his detective work and exhausted from his regular work. 

Inside his apartment he undressed and went to bed without sparing another thought. He laid down and glanced at the cube on his nightstand. It’s different shades of grey we’re supposed to be different colors he couldn’t see. It was a reminder of where he went and the people he met. A small part of him admitted that he missed them but he had already fallen asleep before he could create an excuse for his feelings.

—————

Aunt May was in the kitchen and he was back to being six years old. The sound of plates being moved around and humming filled the air. The smell of food was familiar and he felt safe. 

“There you are Peter! Want to help me set the table?” 

He nodded and took the plates but they slipped from his grasp and crashed to the floor. The glass went everywhere. 

“What did you do Peter?” 

He turned around and she was standing still, looking far into the distance. “Aunt May?” He was older now maybe twenty five. She looked at him with dead eyes.

“Why didn’t you save us Peter? Why did you leave us to die?” A large dark stain started to appear on her chest and it slowly started to spread. Her legs gave out and he caught her before she hit the floor.

“Aunt May?” He held her in her arms and the images of her and his uncle being torn to shreds flashed before his eyes. 

“Why Peter? Why did you go and tear out my heart?” He looked down and saw there was a hole in her chest. Her broken body, the gore and blood covered the floor. He woke up with a scream. 

————

He ignored the dream and carried on with his the day. It wasn’t the first and he knew it wasn’t going to be the last, but his thoughts always drifted back to the last scene he’d seen. 

He didn’t usually operate during the day because he’d stand out like a sore thumb with the sunlight but he’d been working on a case and he finally had a lead. One of his informants told him about a delivery going down and they decided to have it broad daylight as a way to keep him away from it. It was inconvenient but his job was his job. He found the bus where he was told it would be and he followed it, swing through the monochrome city paying attention to not being noticed by people and most importantly the bus.

The bus eventually stopped and he waited on the roof of a building out of sight. The bus went inside a warehouse, there were four people surrounding the area and they stayed outside as the truck disappeared. He could sneak in but then the people outside might hear of anything happened then would go and help, if he took them out then the ones inside would help them if anything went sideways. 

There were pros and cons to both options but he decided on the usual answer. The four men had dispersed and were each protecting different areas. Peter took a breath and went for the one furthest from the entrance. 

He stumbled into his apartment, a hand pressing onto his shoulder in order to stop the bullet wound from bleeding. It went as well as he expected but it was done. He called a police station (one that he had thoroughly investigated and found to be free of corruption) from a pay phone and informed them of the dead nazis and confiscated cargo. 

Peter took of the top section of his suit, he got the first aid kit and a whiskey bottle and went to sit at his ancient couch. He took a swing from the bottle before pouring some of it on his wound. He hissed but went to clean the drying blood that was starting to cling to his skin. He had to dig for the bullet, not something he enjoyed, but years of practice have made this routine. He had gotten absorbable stitches made of polyvinyl alcohol from a nurse who happened to stumble onto his unconscious body during his first year as Spider-Man . She had given him some of the expensive material for him to take proper care of himself, he still checked on her from time to time as a thank you. 

After suturing his wound shut he wrapped some gauze around it and took several drinks from his bottle before closing it and he leaned back and closed his eyes. His lack of sleep finally catching up to him and his mind started to drift from consciousness and he fell asleep. There were no dreams this time and that’s something he has thankful for. 

He woke up and there was an hour left before he needed to be at the club. He moved his arm and it still stung but he could move enough to do his job which was a relief. He changed into his civilian clothes and light a cigarette.

“Fuck.” He still had to convince the guys to play Stevenson’s song which was going to be a pain. Instead of having one hour to relax or go on a quick patrol, he had to head out early. 

———-

“Parker! Whatcha doing here at this hour?”

“Had an hour to spare.”

“I find that hard to believe! You’re never here until there’s a minute to the hour.”

“Well, I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“Murder! The world must be ending if you’re asking for that sort of thing.”

“I was wondering if we could play that song Stevenson always asks for.”

“Why would we do that?!”

“To get him to shut up about it.”

“Heh, that’s a good point, only if you give me something in return.”

“You ain’t getting a honey cooler if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ha! You’re even making jokes. No, you gotta snipe?”

He took a box from his jackets pocket and held it out for him. “I’m guessing the rest of the boys are getting one too.”

“I could have said a Lincoln each, I’m being generous.” He took the box. “I’ll give it back to you when we each get one.” 

“Sure thing.” There, that was taken care of and he didn’t need to worry about it anymore. On the other hand, he knew he was never going to get that pack of cigarettes back. 

He went backstage and took his freshly washed suit and went to change, he checked that the banged weren’t bleeding because getting a bloodstain out of this would cost a fortune he did not possess. He changed into the suit, and he put on makeup on his light gray face to cover up his collection of scars. They were the evidence of a life devoted to violence and justice, some days they stung as to remind him of the errors that led to him getting them in the first place. It took some getting used to but that was show business. He was uncomfortable playing in front of people so he just didn’t turn to look at them, he adjusted and adapted. Covering up became routine, he more more makeup than the others, which was a source of endless entertainment for them, but they didn’t have scars in every nook and cranny of their face and neck. The good thing was that they never questioned him about where he got them. Violence was in almost every aspect of their lives so seeing someone with a few souvenirs didn’t raise any eyebrows. 

He still had about twenty minutes left and they were going to feel like an eternity if he didn’t do anything. So he checked himself on the mirror, fixed his hair again, and walked back into the club. 

“Hey Parker! What are you doing at this hour? And you’re all dolled up already?!” Stevenson was behind the bar, checking the stock and cleaning glasses again to pass time.

“Had time to spare.” He walked over and sat on a stool. “Is it so weird seeing me here a littlen early.”

“Yep! You’re never here early.”

“Seems like I should start coming in at this time more often so you folks don’t ask questions every time I do.”

“I’ll make sure to ask even more if you do.” Peter huffed, it wasn’t a laugh but it wasn’t nothing.

“What have you been doing Stevenson?” He’d never been one for small talk but with nothing to do, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“Mostly squat, you know how it is, but at least I get to see a show every night and have free drinks.”

“I doubt the butter and egg man let’s you get free drinks.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him! I’ll give you an olive for your silence.”

“An olive! You got yourself a deal.” Stevenson chuckles and gets something behind the counter and hands him an olive on a toothpick. “Thanks.”

“Pleasure doing business with you. How about you Parker, how are you holding up?” 

“As well as can be expected.” Small talk wasn’t his forte, he was better at listening, letting the others do most of the talking and he’d just comment every once in a while. “I enjoy working here, gets me out of the house and the music is just another bonus.” 

“Hmhm. You a cat Parker?”

“As much as the next guy.”

“Me too but my buddy John, he’s the definition of a cat. He knows all the good clubs and spends all his free time in them. I invited him over tonight, wanted to show him where I was working.”

“So that’s why you gave me the free drink.” 

“Sorry for using you but that’s his favorite song and mine too.” 

“Well if your boy John can draw us a crowd then we’ll be happy to play his song whenever he likes.” 

“I’ll be sure to let him know, and thank you Parker for getting the guys to do this.” 

“I should be thanking you for essentially buying me a drink.” A quick glance at the clock confirmed his suspicions and he got up from the table and went with the rest of the musicians. 

“Who’s turn is it to open?” 

“I opened the day before yesterday.”

“And I’m opening tomorrow.” 

”What about you Parker?” 

“I opened last night and won’t be opening today.” 

“Santos it’s your turn!” 

“Fine!” Santos stood up from his seat on the stage and walked passed the reception and to the front door.

“Well what are we waiting for, get on the stage.” 

The small group went to their place at the back of the stage, they were divided into sections. At one side it was Parker with the piano, then the Wilson brothers on the trumpet and saxophone, González with the double bass and finally Santos with the drums on the other side. 

“Who’s signing today?” 

“Doubt that they found a vocalist. González qué te dijo el jefe?” 

“Me dijo que nos las arreglaramos así que enfocate en tocar en vez de preguntar tus preguntas tontas.” 

“He said boss told us to play and not it fuck up.” 

“Great start to the evening boys.” 

People were starting to come in and sit down at the tables near the dance floor, others walked to the bar and waited. When enough people got in the owner, walked onstage with a smile a that would have looked fake on someone else’s face. 

“Good evening fellas. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to the 505 club! Now let’s get the giggle water running and the music flowing and hope the coppers don’t bring down the place.”

The band started playing, Santos made his way back to his place while the owner gave his speech, the crowd cheered and some made their way to the dance floor. Stevenson was making drinks, waitresses walked around with full trays, the night was only starting and Peter knew he was going to hate it.


	2. Love walked in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this came out faster than expected. I want to thank you guys for the wonderful comments you have no idea how happy they made me! 
> 
> I’m happy to introduce John to the story, he’s a radio show host and I think you get the idea. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Everything was going surprisingly well seeing as they had no vocalist and were playing almost nonstop. 

“You’d think they’d give us a breather but here we are.” 

“I swear to god they’re gonna work is to death.” 

They finished another song and have each other a look. Finally one of the Wilson’s said what was on most of the groups mind. “Parker if you play a solo, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I’ll add a couple of snipes if you make it two.” The other brother added. 

“Do I have to sing? Cause I’m charging double if I do.”

“You do what you want just get me off this stage.”

“Fine you go but you owe me for this you hear?”

“Loud and clear let's go!” They left the stage without fanfare and so Peter started to play a melody as the others went to the bar to stretch their limbs and have a drink or two. They were instantly welcomed with open arms seeing’s they were the ones to thank for the lively atmosphere. Stevenson left what looked like beers in front of them and gave him a reassuring smile. 

What he was playing wasn’t something that made your leg start bouncing so the people on the dance floor started settling down for a slow dance. Some couples left to take a seat making room for other who were just starting to stand up. It wasn’t crowded but it wasn’t empty. It was comfortable. His piano only rendition of Moon an over Miami filled the club and he found himself feeling at ease. His fingers played the keys with a practiced elegance and he had mostly ignored the faint stinging coming from his stitched up wound. He closed his eyes and when the song finished he kept playing the next one, it felt like he wans playing for hours but it must have been no more than a couple of minutes. He had finished playing Follow Your Heart when he opened his eyes and Stevenson was waving at him, at the bar was a man dressed in Hollywood style pants, a crisp white button down shirt, suspenders, bow tie and cap. 

This must be John who had noticed his friends waving and while taking a sip from their beer followed his view to Peter. They were about his age and were handsome as far as he could tell. His skin was a lighter shade of grey and so were his eyes. He raised his beer in greeting and Peter gave him a polite nod. He then looked at the other members and motioned them to comeback, they rolled their eyes finished their drinks and went back to the stage.

“I played more than one song so you owe me five drinks and more than a couple of snipes.” 

“How about a favor instead of the snipes?” Said one of the Wilson’s.

“Better be a fucking good favor.” 

“A fucking good favor it is!” He chuckled as he picked up the saxophone.

“I’ll get you your drinks later.” He picked up the trumpet.

“Who said I wanted to have them all in one go?”

“Only if you keep count.” 

“Ey, who’s gonna sing Stevenson’s song?”

“It ain’t one of us that’s for sure.”

“A mi ni me voltean a ver.” 

“Peter, you asked for it, you sing it.” Santos smiled. 

“No way in hell. I gave you a whole pack of snipes.”

“Yeah, to play it. Now get ready cause we’re starting in a one.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“In a two.”

“I’m warning you Santos!”

“In a one, a two, a one, two three go!” 

The Wilson’s blew into their trumpet and saxophone and Peter had no choice but to start playing piano. He hasn’t noticed but one of them had moved a mic closer to him and he would have been mad if he wasn’t so worried about what was going to happen. He didn’t think himself as a good singer, in fact he never sing in front of anybody or outside the comfort of his apartment. Now here he was, on the stage of a Harlem club about to go full canary. This was the last time he was doing a favor for anyone, free drinks or not. So he took a breath and opened his mouth. 

———-

Aunt May was in the living room knitting, the small radio was playing a song and she was singing along. Peter stood in the doorway not wanting to interrupt the moment. She looked so peaceful, moments like this were rare ever since his uncle's’ death. Seeing her like this brought him peace and for once he felt like he could breathe. 

“What are you doing just standing there Peter? Come join me.”

She was sitting on an old but comfortable couch, she moved a little to a side as he sat down next to her. The basket of yarn and needles was at her feet and he picked up How project and started working.

“How’s it coming along?”

“It’s getting there, how about you?”

“I’m almost finished with these socks. They’re for the Clarksons, poor darlings need a good pair of socks especially for this winter. I just wish there was more I could.”

“You’re doing more than enough already Aunt May.”

“I know darling but I just feel like sometimes it’s not enough.” 

“I…”

“Well that’s enough for that train of thought don’t you think? Could you turn up the radio a little, I just love this song.”

He did as he was told and she started to sing along and he joined her. The sparkle in her eye and the smile on her face was more than worth it.

———-

He didn’t expect claps, so imagine his surprise when he heard claps and cheers. Santos was smiling smugly while González was giving a winning smile with a thumbs up. The Wilson’s clapped him on his shoulders and laughed wholeheartedly. 

“Jesus Parker! Next time warn a guy before going full Bing Crosby!”

“Man, all this time you’ve been hiding that pair pipes? Seriously Parker you could have saved us a lot of time if you’d just admitted to being a singer.”

“Tienes que cantar otra, nada mas mira a la gente!” 

“He says that you gotta sing another one to keep this jolly up going!”

“Don’t think that such a swell idea.”

“And why not? Look at the crowd and at Stevenson for crying out loud, he looks likes he’s having a ring-a-ding-ding!” 

Stevenson looked at him like he hung the moon and who he thought might be John was smiling ear to ear and talking excitedly to Stevenson.

“Only one more.” They cheered and started playing.

This time it was something more upbeat and the crowd reacted accordingly, maybe John stood up and joined the dance floor and he was a natural.  
He moved like that was were he belonged and Peter couldn’t tare his eyes away as he sung out the words. John held his stare and instead of looking away he smiled and kept dancing and when the song was finished he smiled even more. 

The whole night went like this, he did take some breaks every now and then, he played and sang his heart out and for once it didn’t feel like it was just him doing his work. It felt better, it was almost fun. They closed the club at nearly four am because the people didn’t want to leave. So when they did Peter went to sit at the bar to accompany Stevenson and most probably John. 

“There he is the man of the hour! Parker this is John, John this is Parker.”

“You have some voice.”

“And you have some moves. Stevenson tells me you’re a cat like no other. So what do you think of the 505?”

His eyes were a pale grey and they were mesmerizing, they shone with his smile and it was as if they held the very stars within them. 

“That I am! It’s a charming little place, Stevenson told me your a musician here but he never mentioned that you sing.”

“That’s because I don’t, today was a one of a time deal.”

“Well that’s a real shame Parker, I know some guys who would have loved to see you preform. Anyway I better get going, it was a pleasure meeting you Parker, expect to see me here more often.” 

He offers him his hand and Peter shakes it. He has a strong grip, it’s a good handshake.

“Pleasure all mine.” 

John smiles and with a tip of his cap he’s gone. His hair was a lighter shade of grey than his and it looked lighter and softer too. It fits him, Peter finds himself thinking, before ignoring those thoughts and turning to the man in front of him. 

“Thank you for doing that Peter you have no idea how much it means to me, especially since I’ve never heard you sing before.”

“It was nothing, I found myself enjoying it quite a bit.” 

“He was right you know, it’s a real shame you won’t be signing again, a bet people would pay good money to hear you sing.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I mean it. So what can I get for you today?”

“Coke and rum.”

“Coming right up!” The drink was simple and easy to make and it was in his hand in a second. He took a sip, welcoming the warm burn and the flavor. 

“So you told John about me?” Stevenson’s cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of grey.

“I told him about everyone! He likes to know people and he’s been asking me about the people I work with.” He was clearly flustered. 

“I see.” He was borderline teasing him but at the same time he was curious to why someone had thought he was someone worth mentioning. 

“Anyway, how was tonight?”

“Hectic.” Stevenson nods and goes back to washing a glass, he finished his drink and leaves the money on the counter before going to the back to clean up. 

His apartment felt warm when he stepped in it, that was a welcome change. He was positively exhausted and his shoulder was starting to kill him. He changed quickly and carefully, trying not to move his arm too much, and he laid down on his old, worn out bed. It was still comfortable and it got the job done so he saw no reason to change it. He put his glasses on the counter next to it, he closed his eyes and in the safety of his covers, slowly drifted off to sleep. 

He woke up at his usual time, well rested after a dreamless night. Another small blessing. He took the time to eat breakfast, take shower and get ready. His wound was looking better and it showed no sign of infection, it still stung if he moved his arm too much. That meant paperwork and working on case files for today. He could do some undercover work but why risk it?

He left his apartment and made his way down the street to where his office was. It was small but it was basically free since he’d strucken a deal with the landlord that has to do with Spider-Man helping keep the area safe, which he did. 

The building wasn’t empty but it looks abandoned, there were bullet holes in the hallway walls, questionable stains but it was safe, it was just in bad condition. 

“Peter!” A kid ran up to him and hugged his legs. 

“Hey there squirt.” He rubbed their head affectionately. 

“Did Spider-Man stop any bad guys lately?”

“Yeah he did. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Just a lady and ma said she wants to see you at lunch or else she’s gonna come get you herself.” 

He smiled. “Okay I’ll be there. You did a good job so here you go and tell your ma I said hi.” He handed the boy a quarter. 

“Thanks Pete!” He held the coin like it was his most prized possession and gave him another quick hug before running down the hall and entering a doorway. He had a small smile which he erased while opening the door. The woman was sitting on the chair in front of his desk and she was smoking a cigarette. 

“Felicia, didn’t expect to see you here anytime soon.” 

“Me neither but here I am.” 

“So what can I help you with? I doubt you came here for chat.”

“I don’t need your help this is just a courtesy call. Kingpin is planning something, something big.”

“How big are we talking?”

“Depends, he’s running these experiments and I’ve heard that if things go sideways, you can say goodbye to Brooklyn.” 

“And if it goes straight?”

“Then you can bid the whole apple goodbye. Go to my place, ask for a Charles.” 

“Thank you Felicia.”

“Just don’t end up bloody on my doorstep again.” 

She stood up and walked out without saying another word. 

————

“What do you mean you’re not coming back for a few days?”

“I have other work to do?”

“Your a dick, I get it but come on, you were amazing last night and whose playing piano while you’re gone?”

“This isn’t the first time I left.”

“Still.”

“I’m playing tonight then I’m going.”

“Just playing? No goodbye song?”

“Not if you keep asking those questions.”

“So you’ll sing! I’ll tell the other guys don’t worry.”

“Stevenson wait.” And he’s gone. “Damnit.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” He turned around and there stood John, he wore almost the same outfit from the night before but this time there was no cap. His hair was styled simply but stylishly. 

“The clubs opens at nine.”

“And ol’ Steve lets me in with him.” He sits down next to him. He’s wearing some cologne and he’s close enough to smell it. “If it’s so early why are you already dressed to preform?”

“Had nothing else to do.” He takes a sip from his gin and tonic. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well it’s the truth, there’s nothing much going on with my other job so I rather be head than alone in the cave.”

“I get that. I have work in the morning and a radio show afternoons so I’m free all night.” 

“Must be nice.”

“It gets rather boring so going out to dance and hear music is so much better.” 

“Yeah it is.”

“So you’re not going to show up for a while?”

“I have another job and it’s asking for more hours than usual but it’s temporary.” 

“I’d sure hope so. You know what, let me buy you a drink.”

“Right now?”

“When else? Come on, I know a place that’s open and they’ve got nice music too.”

“I would but Stevenson told the guys I was going to sing and-“

“They already know you’re going to be leaving for a few days, just tell them you left a few hours early. Just one drink?”

Peter eyes him with uncertainty but he smiling and his eyes are shining like he’s hoping he’d say yes. He was at a loss for words at the moment, torn between doing his job and spending time with John. He needed a break anyway. 

“Just one drink.”

The smile John gave him almost blinded him.


	3. What’s your story morning glory?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don’t like this chapter and I really didn’t like writing it, but hopefully the next one will be better.

The entrance of the club was full of people which was surprising since it was so early. 

“Folks come early to get a table but don’t worry, I got us covered.” John took his arm and guided him to the front of the line where a tall and intimidating man was guarding the door. “Brought a new one Saul!”

“John.” He moved out the way and let them pass. The place was obviously bigger than the place he worked at. Luckily John had let him change back into his normal clothes, the makeup was still on because he didn’t want to keep John waiting, the place wasn’t all that fancy. Coming in with a suit and bow tie would have made him stand out but he still felt severely underdressed. 

“Come on our table is right around here.” He still hasn’t let go of his arm and that made his chest feel funny, he ignored it and kept walking. The place was even bigger than he imagined and it had already a decent crowd settling down and dancing. 

The table was far enough from the stage so that the music wasn’t overbearing but not too far away so that it would be considered isolated. The place had a warm feeling to it, it was nice. They sat down next to each other so they could see the stage. 

“You have your own table here?”

“The owners know me and I come here almost every night. I bring them new clients and this is their way of saying thank you.” 

“Then why go to the 505?”

“Stevenson kept telling me about it and I was intrigued. He’s worked in a couple of clubs and this is the longest he's worked in one so I wanted to see what kept him there, now I know.” John looked at him, his gaze was warm and it held something that he didn’t recognize, and he felt like a deer in the headlights. “So about that drink, what’s your poison?”

His gaze left him and focused on the menu and Peter felt like he could breathe again. “Coke and rum” 

“I’m a more gin and tonic type of guy but who am I to judge?” He waved and a waiter came over.

“What can I offer you two gentlemen this evening?”

“The usual and a coke and rum for the pip.” John said with a smile. 

“Right away sirs.” 

“So whatcha think of the place?” 

“It’s bigger than I expected.” He was going to ask him why he called him a pip but he kept that to himself. “It’s nice, has a warm feeling to it.” 

“Right? It’s cozy, it’s comfortable, it might not be the Cotton Club but to me this is the best place in the apple.”

“I wouldn’t know, my work doesn’t let me go out that often.” 

“That’s nuts! I have to take you out more often then.”

“It’s just both my jobs. Once things calm down then maybe I’ll go out more.”

“I’ll make sure you do.” The waiter came back with their drinks and left without sparring them another glance. “But tell me about yourself Parker.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Your first name would be nice. I mean you know mine so it’s only fair.”

“It’s fair if I get your last name in return.”

“Deal.”

“Name’s Peter Parker.”

“John Mul-“ 

His spider sense went crazy as he pulled John down to the floor and gunfire broke out. There was screaming and people starting running. Tables were being turned, glasses were being dropped, bullets were flying freely through the air. 

“Stay here.” He told John as he ran toward a shadowy corner and pulled on his mask. He climbed to a point in the roof and shot webbing at one of the gunmen. He pulled the gun out of his hands before dropping to kick his face. 

He picked him up and threw him at the other gunmen and turned his attention to one of the men who was trying to sneak up to him. He moved away from the knife that was about to impale him and punched the men in the gut. He tried to stab him again and he grabbed his arm and broke it, making the man let out a scream and dropping the knife. He jumped to the roof as gunfire opened where he last stood, hitting the man instead of him. He dropped on top of one of the other gunmen and shot took his gun to shoot the other two in the leg, incapacitating them. He must have missed one because he got punched not long after. He simple shot the guy too in order to keep things short. He went outside to the roof, he took off his mask and went back inside using the back entrance. He phoned the cops using one of the phones in an office and went back to where John was in the floor. 

“Hey it’s over. I called the cops and I don’t know what happened but it's over.” John slowly stood up from where he was lying on the floor, still clearly shaken up from what just happened.

“I’m still not used to all of this.”

“You shouldn’t.” He helped him up and took him outside, the air had gotten colder and harsher since they arrived. The men were tied up with webs and John gasped.

“The Spider-Man stopped them? Dammit I missed my chance to see him and I didn’t even get to thank him.” Thank him? He heard about people finding him useful and that they were glad he was there but no one mentioned thanking him. It was as if he was providing a service people expected him to deliver. 

“You want to thank him?”

“I mean he just saved our lives so yeah, I think a thanks is in order.”

“I don’t think he was expecting any thanks, maybe that’s why he left so quickly.”

“That and the price the cops have on his head.”

“And that.” They started walking, mostly to get away from the place but also because it was cold and staying outside doing nothing wasn’t going to help. 

The sirens got closer until two cop cars whizzed passed them, their white lights hitting the pavement and building as they traveled. John wasn’t wearing a coat and he started to shiver, he didn’t make a big deal out of it, instead it looked like he was trying to cover up the fact that he was freezing. Checking that his mask was stored in his pant pocket, he stopped. 

“Hey John.”

“Yeah?” He stopped a couple of steps in front of him. Peter took off his long black coat and draped it across his shoulders. John was shorter than him and thinner too so the cost engulfed him. 

“You're shaking like a leaf.” John’s cheeks turned a darker shade of grey. 

“You didn’t have to and what about you?”

“I have a sweater you don’t.” 

“You got me there.” They kept walking in silence and at one point John put the coat on properly and buttoned it up. It wasn’t that cold to him but he had been wearing two layers more than him. 

“You got the time?”

“No but it can’t be later than eight so we can head back to the 505 and you can catch your shift. It’ll be like we never left.”

“We can get that drink after my shift.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

—————

He had to sing because Stevenson told the boys and they were going to force him to do so anyway so he accepted his fate even though he didn’t like it. The place was fuller, it wasn’t a big difference but he could tell. He always paid close attention to the size of the crowd when he played, to check who was there and if he recognized anybody. If the answer was yes then he would have to change jobs in order to keep his ‘cover’. He took this job because he needed it and because it was a way to get information, not a very good one but it had its moments. Today was not one of them. 

John was sitting at the bar telling what had happened with exaggerated hand movements. A couple of patrons also honed in to hear his story and they started asking questions which by the looks of it, he answered with grace. He was still wearing Peter’s coat and that caused a flutter in his chest, he pushed it down and ignored it and carried on doing his job. 

————-

“How long is the job going to take?”

“A week if things go smoothly, a month or two at worst.” He took a sip from his glass. 

“I hope I get to see you again in the meantime.” 

“I haven’t known you for long but you’re good company.”

“Thanks.” They both drank in silence. The place was empty except for Stevenson who was wiping down tables. 

“Peter?” John looked uncertain, a little scared, but nervous. Very nervous. He was fiddling with a napkin and he was bouncing his leg. “Are you a friend of Dorothy?” 

He stopped drinking and stayed still. He lowered his glass and placed it on the table. John looked like he was about to have a panic attack, without thinking Peter put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t recommend asking that in the first drink.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume just don’t-“

“I don’t mind but there might be others who do and I don’t want you getting hurt. Also no, I’m not.”

“Well then, this is awkward.”

“A little bit.”

———-

He walked back to his apartment, his shoulder was still sore and it was a miracle that the stitches didn’t break during the fight. The question John asked still rang through his head, he didn’t think so. I mean he could tell that some guys were good looking and his heart would get all fiddly if one asked for a drink or started talking to him. But that was normal. He wasn’t and he had nothing against people that were. Nothing wrong with love his aunt used to say. Nothing wrong with it. 

John was a civilian any way, even if he was, he couldn’t risk putting him in danger. And he would have to protect him from his life, the criminals, the cops, everything. He couldn’t do that to him, he deserved a better life, a good life. It was obvious he wasn’t from New York, still not used to the shootings, perhaps where he came from was a kinder place to live. 

He put his mask on a couple of blocks back before he walked into the bar and headed straight to an empty table, the place was familiar, he’d spent enough time in it he knew every creak. He didn’t say anything and a glass was placed in front of him. 

“I’m looking for Charles, cat sent me.” They nod and walk away from the table. He doesn’t look at anyone or anything expect the table and glass in front of him, it’s half empty. He takes discrete sip of his drink, trying to get the weird taste out of his mouth. Looks like he has to change jobs after all, he can’t stay because John knows where he works and he knows his full name which is probably not a good thing. He can’t risk it so he won’t. 

“Charles will see you now.” They walk to a door and he waits a few seconds before downing his drink, leaving a quarter on the table and then following them. 

The door lead to a hallway with a couple of doors and they lead signal one to him before going back to the bar. The hallway was eerily quiet and the noise from the bar didn’t spill through. He stared at the door before knocking twice and opening it. Inside was a dark room which was lit by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. It illuminated a table with two chairs and he knew it was a He slowly closed the door and walked towards the table. He grabbed the person behind him and slammed him down, the table didn’t break and the person remained still. 

“Glad to see you live up to the talk going around, would be a shame if I had to kill you.” 

“Testing me?”

“Had to make sure you were the real thing. You don’t imagine the number of backstreet trash I have to clear out.” He lets them go and they dust off their suit. They’re also wearing a mask and an their outfit was made up of various dark greys but they had white eyes like his. 

“You’re Charles?”

“A pseudonym, I’m sure you can understand, but folks call me The Prowler if we’re getting serious.”

“The Prowler, I’m sorry to say I haven't heard of you.”

“My job doesn’t allow me to live in the public eye but I’ve been around.”

“And you’re working with Black Cat.”

“A fair deal I assure you. But let’s get down to business, she warned me you were going to drop by soon so here’s what I can offer you; I give you the information on Kingpin and you give me some leeway.”

“Specify.”

“I want territory, you give me part of the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens, and you have this little file.” He pulled out a neat folder from god knows where and held it in front of him. 

“There’s no way in hell you're getting all that. I can give you part of Brooklyn.”

“For this? You have no idea how much this is worth.”

“By the price you stated I do. So I’m giving you an option, you take what I’m offering or you take nothing at all.” His voice had turned darker, he wasn’t in the mode to negotiate with some wannabe Black Cat. 

“You don’t beat around the bush I’ll give you that. But I want something else because I’m not leaving here with just a that. I want a favor from you and not just any favor.”

“A favor?”

“You’re right make it two. So, wanna shake on it?” He offered him his hand and Peter stared at it unsure. The terms weren’t that bad but the idea of owing someone didn’t sit right with him. With no other option he shook his hand. They were both wearing gloves and his looked like theirs had something resembling claws attached to them. 

He didn’t like cutting deals with criminals, but if they were working with Felicia they weren’t that bad. But they were a criminal nonetheless. 

“Two favors then and part of Brooklyn. I have no control over it but I won’t intervene. Step out of there and you’ll see me again.”

“Here’s your file. Pleasure doing business with you.” They dropped the file in his hands and stepped back into the darkness. Peter stepped back out into the hallway, blinking away the change in brightness. He put the file in their coat and kept walked out of the bar, their business done. All that was left was quit his job at the 505 and start looking for a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please come feedback if you want.


	4. Moonlight in Vermont

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not a doctor or a scientist so don’t trust what I write.

The next morning Peter went inside the backdoor of the 505, it was unusual to go inside a club during the day, also the front door was locked and he didn’t have a key. It was going to be empty except for the one person he came to see, his boss. He was a good man, an understanding one, though he didn’t show it much. He knocked on the door, broke the news to him and that was that. His boss didn’t want him to leave and he didn’t want to explain the real reason why he was leaving, so he said his other job was asking for more time than he could offer so he had to drop one, this one. In the end he let him go and that as all that mattered. Now with no source of reliable income, he needed to look for a small, relatively unknown place so that he could get back on track. 

There’s was a diner in midtown that was looking for an dishwasher, it was far enough and the pay wasn’t that bad. But right now he needed to sleep, he needed to rest of he wanted to investigate later on. So he found himself crashing into his ancient bed and burying himself in a sea of blankets. He didn’t change clothes, just his coat and shoes the bed was warm for the first time in weeks and he was out like a light in a matter of seconds.

———

He was floating in darkness, it wasn’t cold and isolating, it was familiar. The way it grasped him was like greeting an old friend and his naked eyes couldn’t see anything beyond it. 

“Hello boy.” The voice echoed through the space of his mind. “It’s been too long since we last spoke.” 

“I suppose.”

“You made a wise choice, he would have been hurt have you decided to stay.”

“Can you blame me for wanting some company? Also why, why does everyone that I get close to have to get hurt or die?”

“It’s what the universe has dictated. Everything that happens is because of a reason.”

“And what reason is that?” There’s venom dripping from his voice and he’s not afraid to hide it. Not after the bodies he had to bury and the scars he had to see. 

“I don’t know. I’m not the universe.”

“Some god you are.”

“Watch your tone boy. I gave you my powers, I made you what you are. I can take it all away. If all you’re going to do is complain about your existence then you’ve wasted the gift I’ve given you.” He closed his eyes and was greeted by a different darkness. “Not going to snap back or sass me boy?” 

“Not in the mood. I’m trying to rest you know, I need that if I want to use your powers for something useful.” 

“There it is.”

“Anything else you want to say to me or are you just going to watch?” He opened his eyes again and he was met with six glowing eyes of different sizes staring right back. 

“Don’t trust The Prowler, you saw what happened to Felicia and your fami, you wouldn’t want that to happen to someone else or do you?” 

“I don’t.”

“Then stay away, it’s as if you’re not even trying to protect them.” 

“I’m protecting them.”

“By bringing them closer to danger? By making them targets? Stay away from the ones you love boy. You shouldn’t need to grieve anymore.” Peter didn’t respond and he heard a sigh. “Very well. I’ll be here if you need me boy.”

He woke up. 

————-

He jumped up from the bed, gun in hand, there was a ringing in his head warning him of danger. But there was nothing there. 

He moved to the ceiling and hid in a corner, he put his mask on before focusing back on the space in front of him. The creek of the floor seemed to echo as the light footsteps got closer. His hold of the gun few tighter as the knob twisted silently and the door opened slowly. There was no light creeping in, just the darkness his eyes had grown accustomed to so long ago. A figure was darker than the darkness and when it stepped in, he dropped down on them. He put his gun to the back of their head and waited. They didn’t move or struggle, they just stayed laying on the floor.

“Who are you and what do you want?” No answer. He pushed the gun harder against their head and asked again. “Who are you and what do you want?” But again, no answer. He shot the place next to their head in warning but they didn’t react, didn’t move. 

This was a first. He webbed their arms together and turned them around, they had a mask covering their face and when he peeled it off he was met with pale dead eyes. They were unfocused, their skin was so white they looked like a ghost, they didn’t seem to be breathing. He moved to check the pulse on their neck but he couldn’t find one, no matter where he looked it wasn’t there. They let an agonizing scream. 

It was desperate, like an animal in pain, begging for mercy. It hurt his ears and caused him to instinctively back off. It seemed to echo throughout his room and his head and it didn’t stop. It was raw and seemed to be tearing their throat to shreds. They were moving wildly, trying to get out of the confinements holding their arms. They kicked and scream and when their eyes met they lunged at him. 

His back hit the floor and his arms were fast enough so that he could push them away from him. They were snarling and snapping at him like a starving creature hungry for his flesh and blood. They tried to sink their teeth into his arms so he kicked them away, but their strength was enough to match his own and they stood their ground. 

He was back in the street when he heard the screaming and tearing of flesh. The snarls and growls and squelching. He was running towards it, faster but not fast enough. He couldn’t save him, couldn’t stop the Vulture from ripping him to pieces and devouring him. He was screaming, his vision blurry, he held his gun, and then the world stilled. 

Their limp body fell on him, the coppery smell of blood suffocated him. Something warm stained his mask and suit and it was starting to bleed through the material. He took a moment to breath and recollect his thoughts. He pushed the body off him, he ignored the liquid seeping into his pant leg. The sound of snapping and clicking teeth still rang loudly in his head. The growling and screaming still seemed to fill the room until silence joined him once more. 

He focused on his breathing, it sounded harsh against the empty silence but he focused on it. He kept his eyes on the wall in front of him, away from the stains on the floor and wall, away from the stains covering him. His hands were shaking. He didn’t notice. 

When Peter finally looked over at the body, it was still, the dark puddle of grey was everywhere but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about the fact that a dead man had attacked him. That a dead man had the strength to hold him down and the energy to try and sink their teeth into his arms. His gaze lingered in the slowly growing puddle and he noticed something small but different, and he knew just where he needed to go. 

————

Dr. Curtis ‘Curt’ Connors was finishing his rounds at the hospital. The soft hum of the lights was comforting in the quiet space. The white wall and floors were covered with the long shadows from the lack of lightbulbs. At least they had some electricity. He closed a door behind him, checking a file as he walked to the front desk.

“Evening Mary.”

“Evening doctor. Everything went smoothly I suppose.”

“Quiet night, there aren’t many these days, we should enjoy them while we can. Anyway I finished checking up on Ms. Jones and I’ll be calling it a day for today. If anything comes up you know how to reach me.”

“Have a good night doctor.”

“You too Mary.” He handed her the file and kept walking. 

——-

He closed the door of his private lab and hung up his coat. The weather was starting to get ruthless and he couldn’t help but think of the people who didn’t have a roof like him. He took off his hat revealing flicks of light grey hair, you could say it was white but he wasn’t that old. His hexagonal glasses were slipping from his nose when he spotted the drop of grey on the floor. 

He pushed them up as he slowly turned around to face the room which was bathed in darkness. He didn’t own a gun, he never believed in violence, but the uncertainty he felt made him rethink his decision. New York wasn’t safe and he had been very foolish. Without removing the darkness from his sight he clicked on the light switch and in front of him was the Spider-Man. 

“Evening Dr. Connors, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

“You gave me a real fright you know that? Would it have killed you to let me know you were here? I could have shot you.”

“You’re not packing heat, but I apologize.” He had a small smile behind his mask, the man had always been skittish and scarring him had always been one of Peter's favorite things. It never got old. 

“So what’s the reason for your visit this time, another bullet hole?”

“I don’t come here for that anymore.”

“And here I wish you would, I can’t risk you getting an infection just because you think you know what you’re doing.”

“You taught me how to.”

“Still not the same as if I were the one doing it. I’m just waiting for the day that you’re in a Chicago overcoat and I’ll be standing over your grave saying ‘I told you to come see me.’”

“It’s not my fault everybody tries to give me lead poisoning.”

He gives him, The look. “You’re a real twit. Now show me where they drilled you.” They have a small stare off and Peter sighs. He takes off his layers and shows him his shoulder. 

“Here.” The doctor walked over and checked the stitching with a disapproving frown. He poked it and Peter had to try his hardest not to wince.

“You’re a real genius you know that Spider? What hit you, a chopper?” He kept poking and looking it over. 

“Didn’t stop to ask and I don’t think you should be poking it.”

“And I don’t think you should operate on yourself but here we are. I mean look at this, it’s sloppy and not well cleaned.” He picked up his suitcase and placed it on the metal slab Peter was sitting on and jumped back. “What in hell is that?”

“What I came here for.” The body was laying behind him and it’s face was still contorted into a snarl. It was hideous to look at. 

“Jesus you’re going to get me thrown into the big house!”

“When has that happened?”

They looked disappointed more than angry. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m going to need some mule before we have this conversation.”

“Fair enough.”

———

They had another half bottle of rot gut (it wasn’t as good but it was cheaper and got the job done) left when they started mentioning the corpse in the room. Peter’s mask was pulled up and it only revealed his mouth, some stubble, and a couple of scars. 

“They had no pulse, you sure?”

“No, I just came here for your bathtub gin, of course I’m sure. Pretty hard detail to forget when they’re trying to bite your arm off.”

“Right, right. You said their blood had something, like it was contaminated. You wouldn’t happen to have a sample with you?”

“Yo.” Peter handed him a case while taking a sip from his glass. The doctor takes the case and moves towards a microscope. Inside is a single glass tube complete with a cap.

“This is more than necessary for a simple analysis.”

“I know but I figured if there was anything interesting I would save you the trouble.” 

“Appreciated, but first let’s take a look at what we’re dealing with here.” They take a syringe and place a drop of blood on a microscope slide and then they place that under the lense. There a few seconds of silence which then turn to minutes. Peter while waiting had finished his drink and served himself some more. “This is incredible, it has a some sort of corrupted design, it’s normal in small parts but over all, the structure starts changing until the cells are distorted to some degree.”

“Interesting?”

“Fascinating! I’ll run more tests and I’ll call you when I’ve found something.”

“Do you even have a blower?”

“I’ll call you, okay. Anyway you’re shoulder should be find but take care of it. I still don’t understand how you heal but I think a good night's rest would help you plenty.” He took another sample and placed it under the lense. 

“Sure thing doc.”

“Leave the bottle before you head out.”

“Goddammit.”


	5. Shall we dance?

He needed a job. More than half the people around him needed a job and he had thrown his away just to protect a man he barely new. Someone had taken the job at the diner because who wouldn’t, nd he was left with almost no cash and rent knocking at his door. So he started packing, his office was in a domed building so he could sleep there. He’d have to sell the bed for some extra cash and pay rent, but he’d have to find a job so that he can have that stable income back. He’d start packing so that he’ll have everything ready in case things go south. 

Yeah, he thought to himself as he swung from building to building, that’s a good plan. He perched on the ledge of one and gazed at the streets illuminated by the white lights coming from the lampposts. Nothing so far, a quiet night, those were few but welcomed nonetheless. It meant that the city, at least for a few hours, was at peace. It never lasted but how he wished it did. He kept swinging then he remember he hadn’t looked at the files that Prowler had given him. 

“Pay attention boy.”

A scream broke through his thoughts and his head snapped towards the source of the sound. A woman was being cornered into an alley, and no one moved to help her. So much for peace. He launched himself towards one of the men crowding her and landed on his back, making him lay face first in the ground.

“Evening fellas.” He didn’t give them a chance to respond as he punched the next on right in the nose with a satisfying crack. He thought punches and kicks in a blinding furry, his head screamed at him just in time to move aside from a bullet’s path. He shot a web and took the gun from their hands, he didn’t want to shoot anybody since there was a lady with him. Seeing bloodshed wasn’t pleasant, lady or not, he wanted to spare her the sight. He tied them all up when he made sure they all had the lights knocked out of them and he carefully approached the woman who had moved to the back. 

“It’s okay they won’t be bothering you anymore.” He didn’t get to close, he gave her her space. “Do you want me to accompany you home or to a police station?” 

The woman nodded and slowly walked towards him. His hands were up in front of him to show her he wasn’t hiding anything and his stance was relaxed. He tried to make himself look and seem as non threatening as possible. When the woman finally reached him, he offered her his hand which she took and squeezed. She was shaking badly and tears were running down her face. 

“You’re safe now. Everything is going to be okay.” He gently squeezed back. “Do you prefer going going to the coppers or back home? I can take you to whichever but I need to to tell me which one.”

“Home…I want to go home.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper and it shook just like the rest of her. 

“Do you want to walk or do you want me to swing us there?” 

“Whichever way is fastest.” She was still holding his hand in an iron grip but he didn’t mind. He was used to this. 

—————

After dropping the woman off at her apartment he kept moving back towards his office, punching scumbags and helping people out on the way. He needed to read the file Prowler had given him he reminded himself again. He needed to know if anything big was going on. 

He climbed through the window, as usual, and didn’t bother removing his hat or coat. The weather was getting colder and the recent rains weren’t helping. He sat down at his desk and opens the drawer in which he had kept the file safe. 

The first thing in it were papers with signatures and stamps all over them. They had not title or header to help him understand what they were about. There were dates next to the names and stamps, two of them. The furthest apart we’re just a couple of months, not even a year. He put those aside and next was photographs of what looked like a surgery. It was grotesque to say the least but he had grown accustomed to seeing this type of gore in crime scenes. What followed were photographs of what looked like different corpses, each had two dates on the bottom left hand corners. 

He looked back at the papers with signatures and the dates matched some of them. He flipped the photos over and they had writing which was smudged, it was almost unreadable except for the words, ‘failure’ and ‘incomplete’. Human experimentation at its finest. After the pictures, there were pages littered with formulas. They looked like they were written in a hurry with a leaking pen but they were still readable. He didn’t consider himself a man of science and he never was good at chemistry but Dr. Connors could probably understand them. So he took out papers of his own and started translating the formulas into something more readable. The more time he spent on this, the less time Dr. Connors has to waste trying to figure it out. 

His hand aches at the end of it but at least he was finished. He picked up a folder and placed everything inside of it, he looked at the empty file folder Prowler had given him and on the back was a location. Dr. Connors could wait. 

——————

As far as he could tell it was just a regular speakeasy. It wasn’t particularly shady but it wasn't a plane old bar. So far his spider sense hadn’t warned of anything but he needed to get in just to make sure. He went to the back of the building but there wasn’t any door which pulled up from flags. The upstairs windows looked to be blacked out since here was no light coming from the room inside nor did light from the street reflect on them. He climbed up the side of the building, glancing at an alley revealed a man guarding an entrance. He’d check it out later. 

He got to a window and checked if it was open, it wasn’t, but one could always hope. With his knife, he got rid of the window beading by carefully inserting his knife into the beading channel at one of the corners and pried it out a little bit at a time. He worked his way to the opposite corner and when the beading had been completely loosened, he pulled it free with his hands. He inserted his knife between the glass and frame and gently pulled it out. He caught it before it had the chance to fall into the room and shatter, and he quietly put it aside when he crawled into the room. His eyes adjusted to the dark fairly quickly and the light from the street helped illuminate the somber room. He was relieved to discover that he was the only person in the room and he had to work quickly before someone noticed the missing glass. 

He checked everything quickly, drawers, the closet, under the bed and mattress, but all he found were regular papers and clothes. It was a regular room which he had made a mess of. Wouldn’t be the first time and deep down he knew it wasn’t going to be the last. The ringing in his head made jump up and hide in a corner of the ceiling before the door opened with a creak. White light from the hallway flooded a specific part of the room, floor and the missing window. 

Perfect, just perfect.

Peter thought as he saw the figure get a hold of a gun and slowly walk towards the windows. He didn’t move automatically, instead he waited until they had walked far enough for him so that he moved across the ceiling and out the door. 

That would have been the plan if things went smoothly but knowing his luck, they didn’t. The wood creaked when he was missing a footstep to get out of the room and he had just enough time to jump out and slam the door closed before the man shot at him. He webbed the door and he could see they were trying to get out, they started banging on the door which was not good, so much for being stealthy. He pushed the door and heard a small thud and the banging stopped. Always worked, he never understood why people pressed themselves to doors when they tried to get out. 

He decided to stick to walking on the ceiling in case someone wanted to walk out of one of the many doors that lay before him. This was going to be a pain. He stayed away from the ones that had muffled noise coming from them and continued to travel through the hallway until he got to the very end. The last door didn’t look like anything special except for the marks on the floor in front of it. The dark grey marks made it look like something or someone got dragged in. 

The door opened before he had the chance to get near it and the ceiling was high enough for the people walking out not to notice him. A small blessing but a blessing nonetheless. The people who had walked out didn’t seem to lock the door and if they did he had his kit ready. He turned the knob and the door slid open. 

This hallway was dimly light, the harsh white lights of the previous hallway were replaced by a soft grey. He continued to crawl forwards until he found a ventilation vent. It looked big enough so he could fit and he carefully undid the screws and got inside. He put the grate back where it was and started crawling, this time in the relative safety that being out of sight brought. He could still see the hallway below him, which was still empty, he followed in until he had to take a turn and he was in a room. It was still the same grey as the hallway but as he moved forward he saw pieces of a silver table and clean blades next to it. He looked closer and meticulously opened the vent and peaked inside. 

Empty, perfect. 

The room wasn’t as big as he expected, there was the bed, a sink, the small table with all the appliances, two stools and some cabinets. It reminded him of one of the many rooms at the hospital Dr. Connors worked in. He opened the cabinets and found gauze, rubbing alcohol, stitching kits and more things of the sort. It was like a giant first-aid kit. He took some things he was run low on and placed them in some of his coats many pockets. He put everything back in place since there was nothing regarding his investigation, so he climbed back into the vent and kept moving. 

——————

The sheer amount of dust in the vents was incredible. It was in moments like these where he was thankful for his mask and goggles. Even though he had something protecting his face he wanted to sneeze and cough at the same time, he just knew that his suit was going to be grey when he went back to his apartment. Still, he had checked room after room, and it was either more medical supplies or file cabinets after file cabinets, and it was slowly driving him insane. 

He dropped down into a room for what seemed like the thirtieth time today and the door opened. His spider sense didn’t ring so he stood like a deer in the headlights as the door revealed a very annoyed, as much as he could tell from his mask, Prowler.

“Do you have any idea how many rooms I’ve checked for you?” He closed the door behind him. Peter realized this was the first time he was seeing him in full light. He was slightly taller and his suit was mostly black but still had parts of white. Not many but they were there. 

“You didn’t leave many instructions in the back of the file, I just assumed the address was where all that was going on.” He relaxed his posture slightly and Prowler must have notice because he did the same. 

“Not the right place but this is a medical facility for Bruno’s and people who can’t afford the big buildings.” He sat down on one of the stools. 

“I see.” The weights in his pockets got a little heavier. “Where you get all the stuff?” Peter sat down on the table.

“Well, most of it is stolen, some of it is donated.” The weight slightly lightened after hearing that. “But thanks for dropping by, could do without you locking me up in a room.”

“You were pointing a gat at me and I couldn’t see it was you. Even if it was, how can I know you won’t shut me?”

“You can’t but I won’t. You’re much more useful to me alive, even with that hit on your head.” 

“That’s reassuring to know but while I’m here I need to ask you some questions about the file.”

“You’re not going to buy me a drink first?”

“I would but I’m beat, got to pay for the cave and all that.”

“The Spider-Mans melted out? Excuse me if I find that hard to believe.”

“Hard or not it’s the truth.”

“Fine! No drink so shot.”

“Where’d you get this?” Peter suddenly got the feeling that they were smiling, his spider sense gave him a muffled ringing. 

“Want me to show you?”

————-

The wind ruffled his coat as it flew behind him, he was swinging building to building and the Prowler was managing to keep up with him. Instead of webs like his, he used this device that shot out and held on to the buildings, some sort of grappling hook he called it. He glided through the wind with practiced grace and he moved in a way that could only be described as second nature. It was amazing to watch and he was captivated by the sight. He landed on a roof next to him and they ran together towards the ledge, Prowler looked at him in challenge and when they jumped they just let the wind whistle past them. He had turned around mid jump so that his back was to the ground and he could see the open sky. It was a clear night and he was glad for it. 

He looked at the person next to him and found that they had done the same thing. He was caught looking The lights and how they seemed to make him glisten, how the wind didn’t move any of him, he was this immovable object which caused the world to change in order to accommodate them. They looked at him their mask made it look like they were smiling, he found himself smiling too. They stared at each other until the ringing in his head got louder and louder so he shot a web, took a hold of him, and launched them deeper into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know where this is going.


End file.
